Repair Parliament if we must – but never make it less angry and less rude

I had few disagreements with my esteemed predecessor as MP for the constituency we both represented. But on the subject of the Palace of Westminster we agreed to disagree.

The Lord Maxton of Blackwaterfoot (formerly John Maxton) could never quite contain his contempt for the Victorian building, dismissing it as “a Christmas cake”, almost as if that were a bad thing. The entire legislature should be moved, he would demand – the building formerly known as the Millennium Dome was his preferred option at one stage – and the Palace of Westminster turned into a museum and tourist attraction.

It’s certainly true that the building isn’t to everyone’s taste. But accepting that fact doesn’t mean I have to understand it. I vividly recall my first visit there, in December 1990, and falling in love with the place. I still find it impossible to imagine anyone failing to be impressed by its sheer gaudy, exuberant, boastful magnificence.

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A great joy for any MP is to be called upon regularly to give visiting constituents – usually in the Imperial capital for a family trip – a guided tour of the Palace. Never once in 14 years were my guests left unimpressed by their experience: the Crypt where the Chapel of St Mary Undercroft is located and which was, once upon a time, used by Oliver Cromwell to stable his horses; St Stephen’s Chapel, now an entrance corridor leading to Central Lobby but once the original meeting place of the Commons itself and the scene, in the late 19th and early 20th century, of many colourful and imaginative suffragette protests; Central Lobby itself, with its eye-wateringly beautiful high arched ceilings and the United Kingdom’s four national patron saints adorning each entrance (“St Andrew, representing Scotland, because that’s the way to all the bars” always got a laugh); Westminster Hall, the cavernous and oldest part of the palace, and one of the few to have escaped the ravages of the 1834 fire unscathed.

And all of that is before you even get to the chamber of the House of Commons. The Bespoke Harris Tour always included an inquiry as to how my guests felt about James Bond. If they were fans (and even if they were not) I would draw their attention the family crests mounted on the walls on the government side and draw their attention to the fourth one along, bearing the name “Fleming”, in honour of Ian Fleming’s father, Valentine. As a sitting (Tory) MP at the time he died serving our country in World War I, he earned the right to be so honoured.

The coffin of British former prime minister Margaret Thatcher rests in the Crypt Chapel of St Mary Undercroft beneath the Houses of Parliament in central London on April 16, 2013Credit:
Leon Neal/AFP/Getty

“It’s much smaller than you would think from TV,” is a regular comment MPs hear from their guests. And it is: the challenge of speaking there is that you can literally see the whites of the eyes of whomever you happen to be disagreeing with (and in most speeches you’re disagreeing with someone). Its size and layout – opposing benches designating the warring sides – bestow an intimacy that sits uneasily with a battleground.

It seems the battalions are to depart the battlefield. Assuming the plans are approved, MPs will quit the palace in 2022 for at least six years to allow essential restoration work to be advanced without the inconvenience of having to work around parliamentary sessions. MPs are likely to approve the plans, which would involve them decamping to nearby Richmond House – currently used by the Department of Health – in Whitehall, while the Lords are likely to shift to the Queen Elizabeth II Conference Centre on the other side of Parliament Square.

Such an upheaval will provide an opportunity – not just for the building work to be completed, but for the Palace of Westminster’s many critics to strike. Why bother returning to a building that’s clearly unfit for purpose, they will cry. Now is the time to establish a truly modern parliament in a modern building, the better to represent a modern electorate in a modern country.

Construction work at the Palace of WestminsterCredit:
Nick Edwards

Such individuals have never reconciled themselves to the way the Commons conducts its business. Not for them the confrontational design of the Commons chamber. All that shouting and disagreeing with each other is just so… well, confrontational. Why on earth do people who have immersed themselves in politics their whole lives think it’s okay to get angry, and even rude, on occasion, just because they disagree about policy?

Why not follow the example of the Scottish Parliament debating chamber? Or any of the many European legislatures, where elected representatives sit in circular formations so as not to catch the eye of political opponents? Then everyone can join hands, place flowers in each others’ hair and sway gently while singing “Kumbaya” and voicing, again in song, the aspiration to buy the world a Coke.

But confrontation is not old-fashioned. If we value politicians of conviction, then we should welcome heated, confrontational debate. If an MP gets angry because of the frustration he or she feels on behalf of the people they represent, shouldn’t that be an emotional expression to be welcomed? And if there are some who would rather not say anything lest it provokes an argument, perhaps an alternative career beckons, one in finance or insurance, perhaps?

You think such a form of debate is difficult? Uncomfortable? Good! Now you know what your salary is for.

As for the supplementary charge that “modernisers” make, that a working legislature cannot function efficiently while doubling up as a tourist attraction, what better example of democracy can exist than one where lawmakers and ordinary citizens rub shoulders in the corridors and cafés?

If the Palace is to be abandoned, so be it. The sooner the tough decisions are made, the sooner MPs and Lords can resume their rightful places on the green and red leather benches. And the sooner MPs can get back to knocking lumps out of each other. Figuratively speaking, of course.